The Letter
by sherlollymouse
Summary: Before he got on the plane in 'His Last Vow', Sherlock wrote a letter to a certain Pathologist. Now, since he's not off in exile, he must retrieve the letter, but has someone intercepted the letter that he didn't even imagine would be problem when he wrote it?
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock had spent a lot of time writing that letter…. but Molly could never see it. Ever!

He had written it believing he was being sent off to die. She just couldn't even know it existed. Why did he even send it? Well, because if he was going to die, he wanted her to know how he felt.

It was surprising easy to slip away from Mycrofts spies and out of his house arrest once a day for about an hour. Although, he was getting a bit distressed…. he hadn't found the letter in her mailbox. It could have gotten lost in the mail, or she might have broken her pattern and gotten her mail before he got to it. No, no… she would have said something by now. Besides, he'd even let himself in her apartment every day and it was amply nowhere to be found.

It had been five days, though, it should have arrived.

He couldn't do too much investigating, though. Being lost for more than an hour would definitely be a problem, he had to allow what his brother referred to as 'babysitting' for the time being. He needn't rock the boat any more than necessary.

Opening the box today cemented his worry. The post does not take five days. Where in the world was the letter?

"Sherlock?" He turned from the letterbox up to the stairs, observing a sleepy looking Molly… she'd obviously been out late night… with a date… who had just left recently. "What are you doing?"

"I just popped over for a visit, thought I'd grab your mail for you."

"How did you know I was off today? Its not my normal day off."

"Lucky guess."

"You just invite yourself over for coffee and break into my letterbox?"

"I just haven't seen you in nearly two weeks and I hadn't yet apologized for.."

"John having to drag you to Barts high as a kite?"

"Yes." The word was spoken slow and carefully. "That." Molly crossed her arms and leaned against the banister. "Should I go?"

"You don't have to." She relented with a deep sigh. "Come on, Sherlock. I have a fresh pot in the kitchen. Did I have any mail?"

"Nope."

At least in the flat, he can maybe double check for the letter.

"Here, black two sugars." She reached over the sink and placed it on the breakfast bar with a bit of force as he situated himself on tall chair.

"Thank you."

"So," Molly added cream to her coffee. "Talk."

"Oh, right. I'm going to talk about the drug… thing." He'd been a bit distracted, scanning her small apartment. Molly was wearing an oversized t-shirt and a pair of shorts that barely covered her behind in fact, if the fabric hadn't been as thick as it was, they could have been mistaken for underwear. "Listen, I needed to give Magnussen something he might be able to use to blackmail me. Drugs was simple enough. It was something I could pretend to be ashamed of, if need be, but it wasn't something I would've cared if he used."

"So, you got high so this guy that was blackmailing Mary would have something to blackmail you with?"

"Yes."

"You're an idiot." Sherlock only shrugged and returned to scanning the room. "Would you look at me, please." With a sigh, he obliged. "You know, Lestrade and your brother did so much to help get you clean… how could you?"

"I felt the ends justified the means."

"But, it didn't even work right, did it?"

"Not everything goes as planned."

"You need to give them proper apologies."

"What about you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, are you forgetting how you met my brother?" Molly cleared her throat.

"Yeah, I'd like to not have another experience like that with you." The mug was at her lips and she paused, giving Sherlock a stern and meaningful look. "Ever."

"Mycroft is no ones favorite person." He chuckled.

"I was actually talking about you." On his feet again, he could scan the room better. "You scared me, Sherlock. I had to call him because I was worried about you and scared of you."

"You were scared of me?" Everything stopped and he turned all of his focus back on Molly.

"You were pretty freaking high, Sherlock, and angry." Was that shame repainting his face? Could he feel shame?

"I'm deeply sorry, Molly won't happen again." He leaned down and kissed her cheek and she gave him a sweet smile in response as he turned and headed to the door and paused before exiting into the hallway.

"You can't promise that, Sherlock, but I'm really glad you're trying again and your sober now." She didn't expect much, but the smile he cast back up at her made it obvious to her that he'd been listening no matter how distracted he had seemed.

—

The lost post was eating at him. For the most part, little worried him, but this letter contained confessions of a man who truly believed his death was imminent or, at the very least, he could never come back to London and never see her again, so he was more interested in random tabloid articles about him and meaningless gossip. He'd had a select few members of his homeless network actual do what little investigating into the matter he couldn't…. nothing. The letter was gone. If only he knew for certain that it was gone for good.

"Hey, Sherlock." John smiled at his friend as he strode into 221B. "How's the house arrest going?"

"Hmmm… its not really a house arrest…. its more like…."

"Being babysat." John finished, pouring himself a cup of coffee. "I can't stay long, Mary's expecting me and, funniest thing, I got a letter for Molly in my mailbox at Barts. So, I have to pop off her place and bring it round." He scoffed. "I mean, how does that even happen?"

"Wh…where is this letter?" The stutter he fought was obvious and, as he met Johns eyes, he desperately wanted to kick himself for asking outright. He could have deduced it was in his laptop bag.

"Its in my bag, if thats any of your business."

"Can I see it?"

"What for? It's not your letter."

'Please."

"Why?"

"Well, because Moriarty is back and I want to make sure its safe for you to give her." John bought this and passed it off to tall, lean friend who, upon recognizing it, immediately tossed it into a drawer. "Thank you, John." His smile was met with a frown.

"Aren't you going to inspect it?"

"Oh, yes, of course, but it'll take some time, I'll let you know when the tests are done."

"What tests? You just tossed it in a drawer. If you thought it really might be dangerous, I would think you'd start swapping and weighing and whatever the hell else you do." Did Sherlock just fidget. "Right, ok. Why did you want Molly's mail?"

"Could be dangerous." John sighed.

"Give it back so I can take it to Molly, Sherlock." he reached his arm out. "Now, please."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll ask Mary to help me." His smile smug, the detective simply relented. Not that he couldn't hide the letter or destroy it, but Mary might be able to deduce what was in the letter and Sherlock couldn't have that. "Thank you." He stayed until he finished his coffee, guarding the letter like a watchdog. Even when Sherlock thought he had outsmarted him, John announced that he'd have the letter back before striding out the door, full of self satisfaction.

Of course, Sherlock had to find a way to intercept the letter. She couldn't read it or know it was from him. While he was debating how best to handle this situation and stalking….well, following, John, his text alert went off.

_**Roses are red, Violets are blue. Weren't you listening when I said I'd burn the heart out of you? - JM**_


	2. Chapter 2

Molly had been on edge since the return of Moriarty, but, other than some safety precautions, she fought to not let it rule her life. Of course, she was in danger, but she knew the moment she accepted it would be dangerous, even though she had no clue what the uncharacteristically vulnerable and honest man before her would request. Diluting her coffee a bit with her favorite creamer, she walked out to the living room and immediately gasped and dropped her mug.

* * *

"Clever boy." A familiar voice greeted him as Sherlock entered his flat.

"It was you?"He hummed. "I'd say you're clever, too. How in the world could I miss you?"

"Molly is a bit distracting." Tom pulled an apple out of his pocket and took a bite. "Plus, its easy to pretend to be an idiot. So funny, Molly and I were playing each other the entire time." He laughed as he threw himself down on the couch, munching on the apple. "She used me to make you jealous and I, well, I suppose that's obvious now." He crossed his legs over the arm of the couch. "The sex was a pretty brilliant bonus, though." Pausing to take a bite, he gave the detective a teasing glance."Of course, though, you wouldn't know anything about that."

"How did you get in?" Sherlock ignored the stab and crossed the room to his chair.

"Your brothers men…. some of them are so easily fooled." Tom sat up and adjusted himself on the couch. "Especially when they think you may have wandered into a popular drug den on the other side of London." Replying with a scoff, Sherlock leaned forward.

"You found another look-a-like of me? I always thought I was so unique looking, too."

"Oh, not only that, but a friend of ours is visiting your little crush. How would the great Sherlock Holmes handle competing against two of his great loves exes?"

"What are you planning to do with her?"

"Nothing she and I haven't done before." Tom winked and giggled.

"I'm serious."

"Oh, now, come on. Don't you like games anymore?"

"Not when I don't the rules."

"Rules." Blowing a raspberry, the man on the couch rolled his eyes. "There are no rules. This is just like any other fairy tale, honestly. The great white knight saves the princess, only, now…. its a bit of a contest. Who will save the princess, Sir Boast-A-Lot?" Tom made the challenge very clear in his intense eye contact with the detective as he rose from his perch on the couch. "You may want to make preparations. I can't pretend I haven't gotten an advantage." The uninvited guest took another bite of apple and turned on his heels to exit. "See you very soon, Sir Holmes."

* * *

"Jim." Molly breathed. "You startled me." Determined to play it cool, she relaxed and looked up to meet the intruders eyes. "I have a fresh pot of coffee in the kitchen, if you're interested." Making her way to a cupboard in the kitchen, She pulled out her broom and a mop.

"Very kind of you, thanks." Moriarty walked over her mess and made his way through the kitchen. "May I?" Molly nodded her response to his request to prepare his own coffee. "When we're done here Doctor Hooper, we're going to take a little trip. You may want to change."

It hadn't taken her long to sweep and mop up the mug of coffee.

"Where are we going, exactly?"

"Oh, my dear, its a surprise!" He waved her questioning expression away. "Don't worry, you'll be fine. You might even enjoy it."

"Why me?"

"Do you really think I'd ignore your little stunt, lovey?" He began pacing as he sipped his coffee. "You had to know you weren't going to get away with it."

"What are you going to do to me?" He shook his head.

"I'm not going to do anything to you, but you are going to do as you're told, princess." Molly wrinkled her nose. She'd never been called a princess before and wasn't sure if the sentiment, the implication or simply his tone made her uncomfortable, but she quickly relaxed her face.

"Well, then, I suppose I should change out of my pajamas, if we're going off somewhere." Jim nodded, not removing the mug from his mouth as he returned to the living room and planted himself on the couch again.

Molly set herself on autopilot and the next few minutes were a blur. She knew she put the mop and broom away and waltzed into her bedroom, coaxing Toby out an open window and into a tree. He'd be fine, she knew, and it was safer and better for him to not be in this flat. Of course, her mobile was nowhere to be found. He wasn't stupid, knew it was the only proper way available for her to get help. She recalled finding a nice dress and some jewelry on the bed an obediently changing into them. The dress was blue and knee length. There were matching shoes, flats.

She had to admit that she looked good.

Relieved she had showered and was freshly shaved, she walked out into the living room to model for her capture, who seemed to enjoy it.

"Now, shall we take our leave, your highness?" Her smile in response and tight as she accepted his arm.

* * *

John had walked most of the way to Molly's flat. He wanted the air and exercise, frankly. Although having any sort of relation to Sherlock Holmes most certainly meant you would be in the dark about something, always, he was a bit curious as to why his friend had kept trying to keep the letter. There didn't appear to be anything wrong with it. He'd held it up to the light, felt it, it weighed nearly nothing, obviously it was just a piece of paper inside. Hopefully, Molly would tell him who wrote the letter…. maybe that would explain some things.

Distracted by these thoughts, he hadn't really noticed anything going on around him, but he definitely recognized the sounds, sites and smells associated with an explosion.


	3. Chapter 3

His heart skipped a beat as he heard the noise and he ran towards the sound, stopping only when he found John Watson. Cursing and picking himself off the ground, he turned to his taller friends.

"What the bloody hell was that?"

"They've taken Molly." Sherlock answered, breathlessly, ignoring the question.

"What, how do you know?"

"I had a visit from her ex."

"What,Moriarty? He came to your flat?"

"No, Tom. Moriarty went to get Molly. They've taken her somewhere and I have no idea where to even start looking." He sighed. "There has to be some sort of clue at her place." The detective began jogging and stopped only to turn back to Watson. "You coming, John?"

"Of course." The man broke out of his temporary daze and followed. "But, what do you think we'll find?"

"Any sort of clue will do, I have nothing." As they came up on the building, he casually made his way past the onlookers. No one had arrived at the scene yet, he may be able to scavenge something. Relief set in when he realized her flat may be still be mostly intact and he rounded the building to scale the tree he knew grew up to her window. Molly had left her bedroom window unlocked, he graciously noted as he shimmied it open from his awkward position in the branches. The strongest limb began to wobble between his thighs and he looked back.

"Well, if we both get on that limp, we'll break it." John whispered harshly from the trunk. "You better hurry and find what you're looking for." He began to climb down.

Sherlock slide himself onto his back on the bed and flipped over onto his feet. The bedroom left no clues except that all her clothing seemed to be here. Molly didn't have an extensive wardrobe. Sure, like most women, she had plenty of clothing, but she didn't really overstuff her closet and wardrobe. She was by no means a clothes horse. Thrifty and selective, he was fairly familiar with her entire collection and it all seemed to be here. A few pieces strewn on the floor, but most hanging up or folded neatly.

Moriarty must have brought her something to change into.

The kitchen and living room left little clues, as well. A broken mug and another used mug… fresh pot of coffee with only the two cups taken out…. nothing to tell him where he'd taken her.

Cursing, Sherlock rushed back to the tree as he heard the authorities converging outside. He really didn't want to have to deal with them. The landing was a bit rough and he nearly lost his balance, but John grabbed him by the shoulder.

"Find anything?"

"Nothing. He brought her something else to wear though. It looks like all her clothing is still there."

"Wait, you know her entire wardrobe?" Before replying, the dark haired man took a long exhale.

"After…. ummm..," By his friends expression, he could tell they both knew what 'after' he was referring to. "I stayed with Molly for almost a month."

"A month!"John held his tongue and didn't speak further. He had already forgiven Sherlock but, try as he might, he couldn't forget and it wasn't always easy for him to not raise his voice when he discovered little things such as this new fact.

"Yes, so I had plenty of time to make little observations about her." His cell phone chimed.

**Lose John Watson. - M**

"John, I have to go do something. I'll text you later."

"What? We're not going to look for Molly?"

"Oh, something will turn up. We'll find her."

"You're joking, right?"

"Why don't you take Toby home? I'm sure Molly will appreciate it." Sherlock gestured to the ginger cat with a collar that had just walked up to him. The obviously irritated doctor did as his former flatmate suggested and headed back home to his pregnant wife.

And Sherlock continued walking up the street until he heard his phone chime a second time.

"You're awful brave." Jim commented, leading Molly into a mausoleum.

"I like to think I am." He turned to look at her.

"Do you think thats strength or stupidity?" As she opened her mouth, he raised his hand to stop her. "No, no, no, sweety, that was rhetorical. Have a seat." He gestured toward a stone slab and she let her eyes float between the two. Her capture merely sighed in frustration. "Calm down, I never get my hands dirty, sugar-tits." Grabbing her, he forced her into a sitting position on it. Humming to himself, he popped a piece of gum into his mouth and absentmindedly thumbed through his phone. "Desperta ferro! The troops are rallying for you, princess. Pretty attractive, too, if I may say so myself. You definitely have a type, my dear."

"What are you talking about?" Before Jim could answer, if he was going to, the door opens to reveal a familiar face.

"Lovely to see you dear, and what are we going by now, darling?" Her red lips twisted into a scowl.

"You might as well call me Irene. Trying to get me killed, Jim. What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Can't stand not having the upper hand, can we ma'am?" He chuckled. "Don't worry. You're getting your favorite play thing back. Temporarily." He leaned over to show her a picture on his phone "but this one, you're welcome to keep. He's mucking up my little game. Too much competition." Moriarty gave his phone a swipe to reveal the next photo. "Did you bring it?"

"Of course I did."

"Good. I'm leaving." She pulled an apple in a ziplock bag out of her pocket.

"Wait. What exactly do you expect me to do?" The dominatrix demanded.

"Play your part, beautiful. Be the evil witch I know you can be."

"What am I suppose to do, shove this down her throat?" He leaned in close and his voice became a deep, threatening whisper.

"Do what you have to to get her to take that bite from your hand or I will kill you both." He snarled. "Your pawns, honey, nothing special. Do as your told and no more back talk." Irene chose not to argue further and let him walk away.

"Well, are you hungry?" She held out the apple to the pathologist.

"Aren't you dead?"

"I've been resurrected to bring you the gift of an apple." Her tone was sour.

"It's poison." It wasn't a question.

"Thats my guess." Irene planted herself next to Molly on the slab. "I'm your wicked step-mother, apparently, in this fairy tale he's building. I'm a bit disappointed he bypassed the seven little men in the cottage, though. Might have been fun for you, at least."

"Who's he, then?"

"The woodsmen."

"He's recreating Snow White? Why?"

"He has a thing for fairy tales. Didn't get read enough of them as a kid." They shared an awkward laugh. "If you makes you feel any better, he likes to me to dig my heels into his testicles."

"Why would that make me feel any better?" Irene shrugged.

"It sure makes me feel better. I'm not an evil witch, you know. But, he'll tell Sherlock I was." Molly touched the woman's shoulder, seeing how sad this seemed to make her feel. "Don't worry, sweety, I'm use to being the villainess. The question is, are you ready to take a nap?" Carefully, Molly took the apple.

"He wouldn't really kill me, would he?"

"I've no idea."


End file.
